Heart of the Tanglewood
by Nine Days a Queen
Summary: "They said a witch lived in the forest. He said it was a wild tale." Fairytale-themed AU. Irene inspires a local legend, and Gen doesn't stay out of the woods.
1. Prologue

**_Chapters 1-3 edited as of 10/29/11. The prologue and chapter one have been separated to add clarity to the story format. Sincere apologizes for any confusion the reader may experience._**

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><p><strong>Title: Heart of the Tanglewood<strong>

**Author: ninedaysaqueen **

**Betas: openedlocket & earthstarmoon – Always a pleasure. **

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of **_**The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings**_**, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the **_**Queen's Thief **_**series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.**

**Spoilers: Books 1-2**

**Rating: PG/K+ **

**Genre: AU/Romance/Adventure/Mystery**

**Word Count: 20,000? **

**Summary: Forests are full of danger and deep at its roots, the Tanglewood hides many secrets. What happens to young boys who never learn to stay out of the woods?**

**Author's Notes: My title, **_**Heart of the Tanglewood**_**, is a small homage paid to Meredith Ann Pierce's fantasy novel,**_** Treasure at the Heart of the Tangelwood**_**. I've adapted a few plot concepts from Pierce's novel, but nothing specific and nothing that requires prior knowledge. **

**Enjoy!  
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><p><em>When they came closer, they saw that the house was made of bread, and the roof was made of cake and the windows of sparkling sugar.<em>

_-The Brothers Grimm_

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><p><em><strong>Heart of the Tanglewood<strong>_

_**Prologue**_

It was often told in dark corners of the village ham during long winters nights as the fire flickered to sound of the speaker's voice, that there was a woman who lived in the Tanglewood. Not just any woman, but one born of magic and potions and dark creatures that crawled through the mud to stand by windowsills and scare children.

It was said that she had sable dark hair, hard eyes, and skin paler than stale porridge. Some said she was a benevolent creature—a simple hermit who chose to live alone; away from the noise and bustle of the mountain villages. Some said she had once been married to a king. Had once been rich and bedecked in jewels and fancy dresses and ate roast boar and strawberries with every meal. More said she was a witch—a dark creature who brewed stinking herbs and animal tongues in great big pots and cursed her enemies to their deaths with hexes and charms.

So they _said_.

_He _said that they were all wild tales and fancies, warping the simple events of a normal mountain ham with half-lights and shadow ridden airs of legend and mystery. Wives's tales to warn children away from the dangers of the Tangelwood, and the true wonder, he knew was hidden deep at its center–far beneath the roots of the pines; yet... Despite the pessimism he held for the stories of his youth, Eugenides had always been curious. Curious as to how a creature could be so strange as to live, alone and separate at the very heart of the Tanglewood; and as his relations often said–well... screamed in fury–it was his curiosity that would someday be his undoing.


	2. Chapter One

_Men shrink less from offending one who inspires love than one who inspires fear. _

_- Niccolo Machiavelli_

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><p><em><strong>Heart of the Tanglewood<strong>_

_**Chapter One**_

His family called him Eugene.

He hated it.

"Eugene!"

Shifting back to his hiding position high in a tree, Eugenides crossed his arms and sighed. In contrast, he always been fond of his name's archaic equivalent—once held by desert princes and Byzantine advisors. Its crisp sound and elegant articulation was far more pleasing then-

"Eugene!"

That would be his cousin. One of his many cousins who lived in Eugenides's clan hamlet built to maintain this side of the northern sheep pastures. One of his many, many cousins who saw Eugenides as their personal stabbing dummy.

"Eugene! If you don't come out now, we'll tell the village headman!"

They always had to drag his father into this. Eugenides rolled his eyes and glared sourly in the voice's direction, wishing for his mother. She'd passed away last winter from red fever—a devastating sickness that swept through the mountain hamlets every fews years, often picking off the young and strong.

It had been her who'd taught him to climb trees of the Tanglewood and the sheer cliffs that jutted out of the slopping landscape. She'd step out of her shoes, peel off her slightly ragged stockings, and shimmy up the branches like one of the brown squirrels. Ladies weren't suppose to climb trees. His mother didn't care.

Gods, he missed her.

"Eugene!" called his cousin, followed by something nasty about Eugenides's family gods. Cleon, he decided it was. One of the big fellows who liked to practice his axe swinging on stray dogs, and part of the group of boys who showed the most promise to enter the Legion Army and support the clan in the wars along the southern border. Cleon was his least-favorite cousin, and _that _was saying something.

Pacing the edge of the Tanglewood, calling out insults and threats, Cleon, at last, hung his shoulders in defeat and shouted, "I hope the witch eats you!"

Eugenides watched him go.

"She doesn't eat people," he muttered under his breath. Eugenides shifted to a more comfortable position in his pine tree, forty feet off the forest floor. The pines were the tallest in the forest and the most dominate species. Their brown spines and spiraling cones coated the dirt floor in a thick blanket. Many of the trees grew as high a sixty feet, swaying in strong breezes by their shallow roots.

Their thick branches made them easy climbs, yet Eugenides was the only one in the village to be found frequently perched amongst the needles, back leaned against a trunk; often with a book lifted from the magus's library. The magus would've let him borrow it, but not being the son of a scholar or an advisor, Eugenides was reluctant to admit his reading habits, even to those who already knew about it.

It was getting dark. The sun sank slowly behind the green hills, grass long with the yearly burning. He sighed and sniffed the air, wishing he could go home and get a bowl of the roast mutton he could smell on the wind. The mountain breeze only served to remind him of the approaching night and the bitter cold that always followed.

Eugenides rubbed his arms and shifted in his perch.

This was all his brother's fault, he decided. He just had to tell their cousins that Eugenides was late to sword practice, because he'd been reading in the magus's library again.

Reading was hardly a taboo in the village, but due to the ongoing thirty years war with Attolia, education for boys was largely focused on sword thumbing, axe swinging, horse riding, and sword thumbing and axe swinging while horse riding; rather than mathematics and literature.

Boys only focused on book learning when they were still too small to lift a practice weapon and not get stepped on by a war horse.

Eugenides was small (no one could argue with that), but he was plenty old enough to be learning the ways of battle. He was too little for an axe, and he balked at any horse larger than a shaggy mountain pony; but with a sword he was exceptional.

Many of the village elders described him as a natural–one who held an innate understanding of the path of the blade. Of how it connected with enemy flesh, striking down adversaries in a flawless pattern of speed and power. Too bad about about that size, the village elders often consolidated his father, and the book learning.

_Too bad... _Eugenides scoffed. He didn't find it flattering to be complimented on an natural ability to kill people.

Despite his dislike of swords, Eugenides was talented with them, that he could not deny. Unfortunately for him, this generated jealousy amongst his cousins, causing them to target his most pronounced oddity, a love of reading.

Even so, Eugenides would admit that insulting half of his relation's taste, intelligence, and legitimate birth-status in the acerbic manner for which he was famous, had not been the best idea he'd ever had.

He wondered petulantly if he should just let Cleon cut off his tongue as he often threatened. It would save him a lot of grief, not to mention missed meals.

"Eugenides," a voice called along the edge of shouting. Eugenides leaned forward and smiled.

Quickly scrambling down the branches, Eugenides ran to meet his only tolerable cousin out the dozens. Helen approached from down the hill, a bundle swinging by her skirts. She smiled, brightly when he emerged from the darkness of the Tanglewood and walked faster up the hill.

"Thought you might want this..." she held up the bundle as she reached the top, swinging it back and forth, "as you are keeping the trees company through the dinner hour."

"Misery loves company," he answered in false pity.

"Of course..." Helen drawled. "You missing dinner would have nothing to do with the scene in the training yard this morning."

Eugenides narrowed his eyes. "That is a distant memory, and we will not ruin my dinner with any mention of it." He took the bundle she offered and sat cross-legged in the grass to unwrap the gift. Helen adjusted her skirts and sat down beside him, stretching her feet in front of her.

Helen usually wore trousers, especially after starting her own sword training. Not a common education for women, but still one that a daughter of the late headman-his father's brother-might learn in hopes of becoming a village headwoman. He wondered which of their aunts had bullied her into a dress that morning.

Eugenides sighed happily digging his fork into the roast mutton and setting aside the bag of roast chestnuts and the side of yogurt. "Family gods bless you, Helen. You are a gem amongst women and the brightest in the clan."

"Now... why can't you speak that way more often, and to the people to which it matters?" She eyed him thoughtfully.

He didn't stop chewing. Who cared about table manners when there was not a table in sight? "What?" he sounded shocked. "And tarnish my flawless reputation with lies?" He swallowed and shrugged, "Of course, with what I just said about you..."

She cuffed his shoulder, knocking him sideways. He fell, laughing, careful not to tip his food. It was a thinly veiled insult. Helen was certainly the loveliest of his cousins, but she was definitely not the most beautiful. "When you're done, we'll head back." She was decisive and serious.

Eugenides groaned, straightening his back. "Do you always have to remind me of reality?"

"Someone's got to."

He took another bite, pointedly glaring in her direction.

**-X-X-X-**

It was a staring contest.

Well... more like a glaring contest. He and his father had been caught in them often since his mother's death. Usually after arguments concerning Eugenides behavior, his manners, his habits, and pretty much everything he did, said, and happen to breath on.

The magus threw a flailing man a life-line. "Headman..." said the magus, garnering attention before clearing his throat. "If I may make a suggestion. There are always chores that require addressing in the library. This might make a fitting punishment for a few days?"

The magus had wandered by shortly after Eugenides's argument with his father became audible half-way across the village commons. Though Eugenides wasn't always fond of the magus's, dare he say, stuck-up manners, he couldn't deny the highly irregular, yet mutually respectful friendship the two shared.

His father sighed, knowing the magus was offering Eugenides a chance to spend more time in the one place he was content to be. To Eugenides's surprise, his father relented, nodding curtly. "That will suffice. I want him working for at least a week."

"Of course," the magus agreed, pleased. "Gen, come with me." The magus saluted in an Eddisian manner. Eugenides's father nodded an equally respectful response.

Eugenides briskly followed the scholar out the thickly curtained doorway of the stout wooden lodge and came to walk beside him. They passed the braziers that kept the village warm and feed, passed the fenced training yards to the tallest building in the ham, the library.

The library was three stories high. The very top floor was the magus's living quarters, the middle was the study room and reference room, and the bottom held the bulk of the book collection—hundreds of volumes, collected by the ham for generations, packed in more than fifty shelves.

"I've been thinking of reordering the entire reference room," the magus said, speaking up suddenly. "Think you could see to that?" Eugenides glared, knowing he was being baited. "Gosh, with that mouth of yours I should be getting at least a few months of free labor; if not years." The magus laughed.

"We'll see how clever you're feeling by the end of the week," Eugenides threatened. "And I am not, under any circumstances, fetching your dinner and running your errands. Get a paige boy."

The magus laughed even harder.

"Oh, no need for that. I actually have a visitor coming, the son of a friend." Reaching the library, and the magus leaned backwards to coax open the heavy wooden door. "I need to make up a room for him. That will be your job."

Eugenides groaned as they entered the main floor, not nearly as upset as he wanted to sound. He was always being coaxed into doing odds jobs for the magus, who declared it the consequence of getting underfoot during his studies.

"But as for tomorrow, we'll have an outing." Eugenides looked back at the magus from the table, gaze curious.

"A trip in the Tanglewood to collect some fungi samples," he clarified.

"You and your mushrooms," replied Eugenides, rolling his eyes and sitting down. The magus took a seat across from him.

"One might think you were a witch yourself."

"Warlock," the magus corrected. "Witches are female."

**-X-X-X-**

Eugenides spent the rest of the day dusting and sweeping up cobwebs, while the magus lectured and argued with him about mushroom classification from the study room. The reference room wasn't very large, but it was reserved for some of the oldest and most valuable books in the collection. Thus, its importance in the library.

After Eugenides was done cleaning, he and the magus took down the heavy books from the shelves and pushed the cases against the walls, creating a space where a small, single bed and perhaps a nightstand and a table might be set up. Eugenides put the books back in place, while the magus muttered something about borrowing furniture, and with that, Eugenides found he was done for the day, bidding goodbye to the magus as he left.

The ham was quiet this late at night. The only signs of life were the roaring braziers in the commons and the crickets that sang from the long grass. Eugenides found he enjoyed the quiet–-a contrast from the usual noise and ruckus that pervaded his life.

"You have dust in your hair," he heard Helen chuckle from behind him.

He turned quickly, grinning devilishly at her. He hadn't seen her since she'd sent him off with a sympathetic pat on his shoulder to speak with his father.

"It's the magus's fault." Eugenides walked backwards to face her as she approached. "It's this new form of torture he's testing. Locking people in rooms full of dust and expecting them to clean it all up with a messily bucket of water and a broom."

He turned, and Helen settled into a slow walk beside him. "Stenides told me you'd been given your punishment work at the library. I'm glad you're working with the magus."

She smiled shyly, and Eugenides wondered, as he often did, if she had a crush on the old scholar.

"He likes you."

Eugenides huffed. "Yes, he likes me and all the free labor I provide. Tomorrow he's forcing me to pick mushrooms." He waved a hand for emphasis. "_Mushrooms_."

Helen laughed, but her eyes fell as she processed what he'd said. "In the Tanglewood?"

Eugenides sighed. "Oh, Helen... not you too. Even if there is a witch, I'm sure it's just some harmless old lady hiding from her fat, old husband."

Helen stopped walking. "She's not old, Gen."

Eugenides stopped as well, turning to stare at his cousin curiously. "What?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. It didn't feel right to speak of the witch in the same voice he used to call a friendly greeting. "Helen, have you seen her?"

Helen broke eye contact but nodded reluctantly. "I was playing with my sisters sometime last year. We had wandered into the woods a little ways by the clover fields..." Eugenides inclined his head, encouraging her to continue. "We were picking the clovers from where they grow along the edge of the field, and..." she lowered her voice, "...there was this woman. I only saw her for a moment, but she just stood there in the trees... watching us. She was young and beautiful, but something about her... just seemed so... so-"

"What, Helen?"

"Cold..." She met his eyes. "Like the glaciers of the northern lakes–hard, cold, and cruel."

"Helen..." he started.

"Just be careful, Gen. I don't know if she's dangerous, but just promise me that you'll be careful." She stepped closer. "The Tanglewood... it's not safe."

Both were silent, and after a moment of standing pensive, Helen bit her lip and returned to her family lodge.

Eugenides barely heard her goodbye.


	3. Chapter Two

_It is a pity that we so often succeed in our endeavors to deceive one another._

_- Empress Irene of Byzantium_

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><p><em><strong>Heart of the Tanglewood <strong>_

_**Chapter Two**_

Eugenides was sweating, thirsty, exhausted, and the magus... The magus was laughing at him.

"I'm... let's see... more than twice your age?" he said haughtily. "And you're tired before I'm even winded?" It was the magus's usual defense mechanism against Eugenides's whining, baiting him with condescending twits.

"There's a brook. Just over there," hissed Eugenides, pointing. "Let me rest and get more water. Your mushrooms can wait."

The magus shrugged, lowering his pack to the ground.

"Don't be too long," the magus called as his young friend walked away. "Mushrooms don't collect themselves!" Eugenides swiveled, sticking his tongue out at the magus's back before proceeding to the stream.

It was a peaceful little brook that fed a small, swampy pond. The pond itself likely dried up during the hottest months of summer; the brook that fed it being a drainage rivulet from where the mountain waters of the melting glaciers flowed down the hills towards the valley lakes below.

Eugenides retrieved his water cache from his shoulder sack, popping the lid as he knelt next to the small waterfall formed by the brook as it flowed into the pond.

The species of mushrooms the magus was looking for were difficult to find, and he'd spent the entire afternoon digging through pine needles and avoiding slugs while hunting for the erstwhile fungus that grew below the heaps of dry prickles.

He'd already caked the beds of his fingernails with dirt.

Eugenides sighed and settled on a patch of moss to drink his water. He wanted to drain the cache, so he didn't have to return to torturous mushroom hunting with half his water gone.

"Gen!" he heard the magus yell from across the trees.

"I'm not done yet!" he yelled back. He refused to budge from this spot for at least another ten minutes.

"It's not that! I found a rare species of moss growing by these oaks! We've hit a treasure trove!"

"Yeah, that's great!" Eugenides answered unenthusiastically. He'd would never understand this man's obsession with things that grew in the dirt. Just as well, though. The magus would be distracted for a good half-an-hour, giving Eugenides plenty of time to catch a nap in the shade of the pines.

It wasn't fifteen minutes after he'd settled on his back that it started—a rustle of the leaves, the ominous sway of the pines in the mountain wind, the snap of a twig far off in the forest. Helen's words were haunting him, turning him into one of those idiots who still feared nursery stories about witches who boiled naughty children for supper.

It was a squirrel or the wind or... or-

_Snap._

That was not a squirrel.

Eugenides eyes snapped open. He sprang upwards to a sitting position and quickly scrambling to his feet. Something was approaching from across the pond. Something large and heavy and, and...

Eugenides sighed and hung his shoulders as a group of deer appeared from behind the veil of trees. Probably looking for a cool drink themselves.

A doe stared at him as she lapped the water with her pink tongue, ripples spreading outwards. Her large, amber eyes were full of reproach. Great, even the deer thought he was stupid.

"Umm," Eugenides ran his fingers through his hair and waved. "Yeah... nothing to see here."

If he was going to start at ever passing woodland animal, he might as well find the magus. He hung his sack over his shoulder and grabbed his water cache to fill before he left.

"Most would think to boil water before they drank from a natural source," a woman's voice spoke—cool, collected and no more than a few feet behind him. Eugenides froze—cache in hand, hanging a few inches above the water. He stood slowly, his eyes wide, his hands shaking, yet for some reason, no longer afraid; not of the Tanglewood—not of it's mystery, it's wonder, and the secrets it held deep beneath the pine roots.

"I've seen you before," she spoke again; her voice educated and precise, "sitting in the pines like a squirrel, only with a book instead of an acorn."

He turned, wanting to see the speaker. A woman who he'd spent most of his childhood believing to be a fairy tale—a precaution to prevent children from wandering too far into the danger of the woods.

Her gown was light blue, and her shoulders were covered by a darker blue shawl that billowed around her like a cloud. Her hair was sable dark just like they'd said. Her skin was pale at her neck and shoulders yet darkened towards her delicate hands, streaked with dirt from digging. She held a basket, filled to the brim with plants, flowers, mushrooms, and heaps of moss. And her eyes... Her eyes were very, very hard.

"You're-" he started, "Are you?"

"The witch of the Tanglewood? I hear that's what they call me." She smiled, a hint of amusement. "Were you speaking with the deer just now?"

He shrugged and rubbed his shoulder sheepishly. "Ah, that depends on whether you believe talking to animals indicates a deep understanding of nature or qualities of brain damage caused by winter fever."

She smirked, showing the edges of her teeth, straight and well-cared for. Another part of the stories seemed to be accurate. She'd hadn't been raised poor.

He couldn't understand why anyone thought she was dangerous; but that was before she tightened her grip on her basket and glared at him, eyes pointed with heat. "You shouldn't be here."

"I..." he shook his head in confusion. "You-"

"This is not a place where you belong. This wood is mine, and I don't welcome strangers into my home. Stay in your trees," she lowered her voice, "and _stay_ out my way." With that, she turned to leave, disappearing into the shadows and leaving him with a gaping mouth.

He'd just spoken to the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and all he did was make comments about winter fever.

_Ugh..._

"Gen! You should have been back twenty minutes ago! Fungi waits for no man, and neither does the daylight!"

Ah, the magus. Mushrooms, moss, daylight. It seemed his head was still capable of thought.

Mostly.

He stuffed his water cache into his bag and hurried back into the forest, only glancing once over his shoulder.

**-X-X-X-**

The magus's visitor was to arrive the next day, and Eugenides had been moving furniture and dusty shelves for, it seemed, half his natural life. When he'd confided this sentiment in the magus, he'd been comforted with the knowledge that half his life was not terribly long at all.

"So, so, so. What's he like?"

The magus didn't look away from the top of his large desk on which he was carefully dissecting his fungi samples. Bifocals perched on the tip of his nose.

"Hmm..." was the only response.

"The son of your friend. What's he like?" Eugenides turned from where he was organizing leather-bound science volumes on a small shelf in the study. The books had probably been printed when his grandfather was still a child.

"Age, country of origin, hair color, height. You know... those things people notice about someone else when they're not courting a mushroom."

The magus snorted. "Plants may be the love of my life, but I am far from romantically involved with _Agaricus bisporus_." He took his bifocals off and tucked them in his breast pocket.

Eugenides crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "Archaic doesn't make you sound smarter. It just makes you sound like your mouth is full of rocks."

The magus chuckled. "Don't let my guest hear you say that. He'd probably keel over and die from shock."

Eugenides raised his eyebrows. A scholar then? "He's not stuffy and old like you, is he?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that and no..." The magus stood up, crossing the room to select a finer tipped knife. "He's a few years younger than you, actually. You may even get along."

This surprised Eugenides. "Younger than me and learning archaic?"

"Quite. He's a budding scholar, that one. Shows promise." The magus reseated himself. "And he _loves_ mushrooms."

Eugenides hid his grin and finished with the shelf. "You still didn't answer my question. What's he like?"

"Oh, shy, likes to read, will probably find you fascinating, and he's from..." the magus paused for effect. "He's from the same place I am."

Eugenides rolled his eyes. "You've never told me where you're from." The magus's shady past had always bothered Eugenides like a bad itch just before washday. He'd often wondered if that wasn't part of the magus's motivations in keeping it a secret.

"Exactly," was the old man's enigmatic response. Definitely enjoyed it.

Time for a question that might actually receive an answer. "Why would he be interested in me?" said Eugenides, grunting as he picked up a particularly heavy stack of books that had been in the reference room. They would need to be moved downstairs for the time being.

"He's interested in all creatures of rarity, and you, Gen, are the rarest of this village."

"Is that an insult?" he called back over his shoulder.

"Depends on how you look at it."

Eugenides scowled and proceeded to walk downstairs.

He did not need nor did he _want_ the magus's sympathies.

**-X-X-X-**

Despite Eugenides convictions, it seemed that sympathy was a lot of what he was going to be getting from the magus's visitor, along with endless questions, rambling observations, and being followed.

Absolutely.

Everywhere.

He.

Went.

"How did you get up there?" a curious voice called from the ground.

Gods, he'd been found.

Eugenides had been sent out that morning to greet the new arrival where the sheep pastures crested into hills before leading downwards into the valley farmlands below. The talking had started almost immediately and had yet to cease.

Sophos, that was his name, was a small, fair boy about two years younger than Eugenides was himself. He'd been shy when Eugenides had first approached him, waiting at the side of the road with his travel bags. It was difficult for a horse-drawn cart to maneuver through the dipping pastures and the poorly paved roads that led to the hamlet. Eugenides had explained this to Sophos before gathering up some of his luggage.

Once they'd exchanged names, the conversation quickly became one-sided, as Sophos appeared to want to know absolutely everything about him.

How did he know the magus? How old was he? Had he lived here his whole life? Who was his family? Did he spend time in the library where Sophos would be staying? What did he like to do? Was he trained in sword combat?

Eugenides barely got a word in edge-wise, before he was next haggled with commentary on Sophos's life.

He'd apparently known the magus since he was very young. This was his first trip away from home. His family wasn't important. He was mostly fond of reading and studying, and no... He was terrible with swords.

Eugenides suspected the talking was a nervous habit of sorts and wished, distantly, that he'd not been targeted as Sophos's personal security blanket.

Back in the present, Sophos waved from the bottom of the tree. "Hey! Can you hear me? How did you get up there?"

Eugenides sighed and tucked his book in his trouser waistband. "I climbed! That should be obvious!" he shouted back a little louder than necessary. It wasn't that he didn't like Sophos. The younger boy was far more tolerable to the company of all of his male cousins, but still...

_His cousins._

If they discovered Sophos, there was no telling the havoc they could wreck. At least, Eugenides could defend himself.

"Hang on. I'll be down in a minute," Eugenides swung from his perch to a larger, more sturdy tree opposite of him and shimmed down the trunk with an ease that indicated years of practice. Sophos stared, eyes full of awe.

"Who told you I'd be here?" Eugenides asked, voice curt.

Sophos blinked but recovered quickly. "One of the girls in the village. She showed me around after you disappeared."

Disappeared, indeed. More like dashed to safety as soon as he'd pointed Sophos in the direction of the library.

"Girls? Which one?"

"She said her name was Helen... I think... Why? Is there something wrong?" said Sophos, eyes narrowed critically.

_Thank the clan gods._

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong." Eugenides turned away, sighing in relief and starting to lazily walk in the direction the village.

Sophos followed.

He was simply going to have to get used to this, wasn't he?

Obviously, he couldn't hide Sophos in the library for the entire duration of his stay. He was simply going to have to rely on Helen and maybe Stenides to keep on eye on him.

The knot of Eugenides current problem in question spoke up suddenly. "Umm... About Helen. How old is she?"

**-X-X-X-**

"Can't you send him back? He doesn't belong here." Eugenides kept his voice low. Sophos was upstairs in the reference room still getting settled.

Eugenides had corned the magus as soon as he'd been free of his newest limb. Full intent on making the old man realize the error of his way.

So far, he wasn't succeeding.

"What?" The magus looked up from where he was arranging dinner for the three of them, having stacked the books and scrolls to the other end of the long table. He stared at Eugenides in surprise.

"I thought the two of you would get along. That's why I asked you, specifically, to go down to the pasture roads."

"It's not him," Eugenides replied curtly, then changed his mind. "No... well... It is him, but not because of him."

"It is a strange language you speak, Gen" the magus observed drily.

How could he put this?

Eugenides waved his hands up and down for emphasis and gestured towards the staircase. "Have you met him?"

The magus stared blankly.

"And have you met my cousins?"

Understanding dawned in the old man's eyes, but to his utter surprise, the magus laughed.

Eugenides glared, not sharing the joke.

"I believe you will find that Sophos is quite a bit tougher than you seem to think he is. He's not had the easiest of lives himself," the magus explained.

Eugenides wasn't reassured, but it was clear the magus wasn't going to listen to the voice of reason on this matter.

"He'll be here any minute, so let's drop this issue for now." The magus sat down at the table and waved the young man to do the same.

Eugenides decided to indulge the magus in a rare moment of obedience, but that didn't stop him from propping one foot on the table and rocking his chair back and forth in a sulky manner.

"On a different note, your punishment duty will be ending soon, and I will be forced to return you to the training yards."

Eugenides groaned. "Kill me now, and spare me from the torture."

"Do you not like sword training, Gen?" Sophos asked, entering quietly. Eugenides made a mental note to keep a better eye on him.

"I detest weapons of any kind," he said loftily, before letting the front legs of his chair fall to the floor with a bang. "And who told you that you could call me Gen?"

Sophos shrugged, taking his own seat at the table. "It's what the magus and Helen call you. I assumed it was your pet name."

Eugenides glared, and Sophos looked away. The magus decided to interrupt.

"You'll find, Sophos," the magus began, ignoring Eugenides's rudeness, "...that Gen is touchy about a number of subjects. Don't let his pessimism get to you." He turned to give Eugenides a sharp look. "Or his bad manners."

Eugenides huffed but relented when he saw the look on Sophos's face. "Gen is fine. Just don't call me Eugene or Geny or any of its variations. Understood?" Sophos nodded compliantly. He was even smirking.

"I was thinking you two might run an errand for me tomorrow," the magus said suddenly, poking at his dinner. It had been one of Eugenides's aunts who was in charge of cooking today. From the texture, he could easily tell which one.

"I didn't bring back enough samples of the moss Gen and I found in the Tanglewood the other day."

Sophos listened with interest. Eugenides's stopped eating.

"You and Gen can collect some additional samples in the morning. Gen?" The magus tapped the table. "Gen?"

"Hmm, what was that?" He'd barely noticed that the magus was speaking to him.

"Do you remember where we found the moss in the woods the other day?" Both the magus and Sophos were peering at him curiously.

"The moss? Oh, yes. Of course." Eugenides recovered quickly. "By the pond with the small waterfall. I remember perfectly." He stared at his plate, playing with the fork in his food.

"Right..." the magus said questioningly, yet choose to ignore his odd behavior. "You can take Sophos there tomorrow. Show him around the haunted wood."

"The woods are haunted?" Sophos asked, eyes wide.

The magus scoffed. "Local legend, Sophos. A bit of mountain color you might say. Though..."

"Though what?" Eugenides asked. If it was about the witch, he wanted to hear it.

"The legend of the Tanglewood witch appears to have been born no more than twelve years ago." The magus clarified in between bites of watery potatoes.

"That's odd," Sophos added.

Eugenides stirred the mush on his plate. "Why's that?"

The magus looked to Sophos. "I think I'll leave that one to you."

"It's just..." Sophos began hesitantly, "legends about hauntings and magic usually go back generations, especially in old mountain villages such as this. For a legend to only be about twelve years old..."

Eugenides was tiring of the crypticness. "Yes?"

"Well... for the story to be that young, it's almost like..." Eugenides vaguely noted a desire to shake the younger boy, "...like a real witch moved into your woods twelve years ago."

Eugenides was silent.

The magus laughed. "That's one explanation, but more likely a traveler or a new family moved to this village about twelve years ago, and brought with them a similar myth about a witch living at the center of a forest that had been located near their original village. Myths grow and progress all the time, and Gen's people merely made the story their own. Isn't that right, Gen?"

"Yes," Eugenides muttered, not looking at his dinner companions. "I'm sure it is."


	4. Chapter Three

_"What makes the desert beautiful," said the little prince, "is that somewhere it hides a well..." _

_- Antoine de Saint Exupéry_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Heart of the Tanglewood<strong>_

_**Chapter Three**_

_Crunch. Crunch_

Protested the leaves Eugenides stepped on as he plodded through a deer trail and deep into the Tanglewood. Their progress through the forest had been slow, mostly due to Sophos's fascination with every bit of flora and fauna the two boys happened to pass by.

He was worse than the magus.

Eugenides glanced over his shoulder, considering the precocious boy's behavior. He suspected Sophos must be from a more temperate climate if he examined cold weather plants such as white birch and swamp milkweed as if they were the legendary shiftless trees of Bangloo.

If nothing else, Sophos was supplying Eugenides with more and more clues as to the magus's land of origin, and perhaps an explanation as to why a scholar accomplished enough to reach the honorary title of the magi, would take up residence in a tiny mountain ham.

"We almost there?" Sophos asked from a few paces behind him.

"Give it a few more minutes," he replied curtly. "Though..." Eugenides drew the word out on his tongue. "We could have been there awhile ago if someone wasn't constantly getting distracted."

Sophos blushed, his pale skin betraying his embarrassment. Eugenides wondered if his head kept an extra supply of blood near his face just for blushing.

The older boy vaulted over a downed tree with ease, then turned without thinking to offer Sophos a hand over the obstacle. Sighing inwardly, Eugenides realized he was beginning to get attached. His cousins would simplylove this.

"Just past this ridge, and we'll be at the pond," Eugenides said, letting go of Sophos's hand. He stopped when he noticed no one was following him.

Turning, Eugenides stopped to gaze questioningly at his companion.

"Umm... Gen?" Sophos's voice was tentative.

"Yes? What's wrong?" Eugenides asked impatiently.

"Do you..." Sophos spoke lightly, voice void of accusation. "Do you want me to leave?"

Eugenides sighed and pulled at the hair of his crown. He knew his behavior hadn't been the most welcoming, but he'd thought they'd been getting along better as of today.

"Sophos, look-" he began, but to his surprise he was interrupted.

"I heard you last night. What you were saying to the magus."

Eugenides stared.

"And if you want me to leave or just let you be, I'd understand. I can take care of myself, and either way..." Sophos trailed off. "I'm used to being on my own."

Now, he was simply trying to make Eugenides feel bad.

So, so, so, maybe there was more to Sophos than met the eye when one picked him up on the wayside of a strange road in a strange, new land; since he was currently trying to appeal to Eugenides more sympathetic side. A side he tried so desperately to hide.

On the spot, Eugenides walked closer and took a deep breath.

"If I'd wanted you to leave, I would have said so yesterday." Eugenides stuffed his hands inside his pockets. "I'm not one to curtail my opinion," he shrugged. "You might have noticed?"

Sophos smiled.

"It's just most of my cousins..." he let that phrase hang. "Aren't the most friendly people in the world. "

"Is that why you don't like sword practice?" Sophos inquired. Definitely smarter than he'd given him credit for.

Nodding, Eugenides spoke tersely, "That and I think it's a colossal..." He spread his arms wide, staggering backwards as he pronounced each word carefully, "Waste. Of. Time."

Eugenides turned and began to walk again.

Sophos followed. "You're the first I've heard to say that. My father seems to think it's the most important thing in the world."

Eugenides chuckled. "Yours and mine both. We should start a brotherhood of disappointing sons."

They both laughed and continued to walk in companionable silence, until Sophos, once again, stopped abruptly.

"Gen?" he sounded wary.

"Hmm, what's it now?"

Sophos extended his arm, pointing just past the small ridge, frozen in place. "Whose house is that?"

"House?" Eugenides asked, incredulous, prepared to dismiss Sophos as delusional. No one lived in the Tanglewood. Well... except for _her._

He glanced in the direction where Sophos was pointing, seeing only a grass covered hill and a small mossy knoll.

At first.

Eugenides never would've noticed it. Tucked in the corner of the ridge, where it met the ground in an arch, was a tiny cottage. The wooden boards so greened with moss and the decay of the damp forest that is was camouflaged by its natural surroundings and the low light. The pine needles absorbing the sun's rays as effectively as they cradled the snow in winter.

It was a long moment before Eugenides remembered to breath. "How did you see that?" He turned to gawk at Sophos, who stood frozen beside him.

"Those large leaves near the chimney..." Sophos gestured to the vine covered stack of leaning brick, which was further hidden be large, fanning leaves. "They're not native to this area. I was just wondering who would go to the trouble to plant them when I noticed the shape of the house."

Family gods bless these scholars and their silly plants, Eugenides laughed inwardly.

"Gen..." Sophos started, gazing solemnly at his friend. "That's not... Those stories you told me last night..." He left the words unsaid.

"I'm not sure," Eugenides answered. "But I think it might be." He turned to meet Sophos's eyes. "Last time we were here... when I was with the magus," he clarified. "I met her."

Sophos raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Who is she then?"

"I don't know..." he said with a shake of his head. "There's just something..." He looked away.

"Something what?"

"Ever seen the sand dunes of the Great Northern Lakes?" It was the best analogy he could think of.

"The ones carved by the lake winds?"

"Exactly. Just think of how smooth, beautiful and perfect the sand dunes are then remember the sheer violence, force, and power of the winds that carved their shape." He took a deep breath. "Then you've got a pretty clear image of what I mean."

Sophos shivered. "Should we?" he gestured behind them. Should we run is what he meant.

Eugenides answered, sounding braver than he felt, "No, I want to see... if this is where she lives." Nodding with an odd sense of determination that seemed to come from a yearning Eugenides himself did not understand, he told Sophos, "You can wait here if you like."

"No, I'm going with you."

**-X-X-X-**

Above was the best approach.

The trees grew close to the cottage walls, cradling the structure like a sleeping child. Eugenides knew he could easily hop to the roof from the branches and scamper down the vines that grew the length of the chimney. That only left him with one problem.

"You're not leaving me here," hissed Sophos, from where he hid in the bushes beside Eugenides. "What if she's a mercenary's wife from the deserts? She could eat you alive!"

"Shhh," Eugenides hissed. "Her skin's too pale to be from the desert tribes and anyway, what gave you such a strange idea? I'd bet you a fiver that she's not even a real witch."

"Then why is everyone so afraid of her?" Sophos asked

Eugenides stared blankly. He didn't have an answer to that.

"Just wait here, and... and..." He searched his brain for a useful job, so he wouldn't leave Sophos feeling like a useless onlooking waiting in the bushes. "Make some sort of noise if you see her, but don't get any closer than this."

Relaxing now that he had a plan, Eugenides grinned and lightly punched the younger boy on the shoulder. "She might just get you with her single-shot pistol."

"I thought you said she wasn't a mercenary's wife!" Sophos hissed irritably, as Eugenides began to shimmy up a tree.

**-X-X-X-**

Pine trees had a bad habit of growing too close together and getting their branches tangled and bent in the weight of their neighbor's. Thus, it was a simple task to cross from one branch to the other, but it also meant Eugenides was forced to rely heavily on his agility as to not get twisted in any thin tendrils that could throw him dangerously off balance.

Eugenides tiptoed precariously across a thick branch then hopped between the sturdiest looking limbs he could find, careful to keep his weight moving. Even a thick branch could bend and break under him, leaving his legs broken and twisted at the bottom of the forest floor.

Approaching the roof with few problems, Eugenides gently lowered himself to his knees on the moss covered roof tiles. Dropping to his stomach, he rolled to the far side and very, very quietly climbed down the chimney.

Untangling his feet from the vines, Eugenides found himself in a tiny garden hidden between the house and the ridge. Pleased, he brushed his hands on the front of his tunic and stooped to a crouch by the side of the house.

If he could just get close to a window-

"_Might I ask a question of one so old?" _

Eugenides froze.

Her voice was soft yet seemed to roll off her tongue like flames rolled from the village braziers. Eugenides shut his eyes as tightly as he could, hoping she was merely speaking to the air and hadn't noticed him sneaking up to her house like a common thief.

She continued to recite.

"_What is life but a memory? _

_An image in the dark? _

_A past long forgotten? _

_A word uncarved in bark?"_

Her tone was cool and smooth, flowing like honey and thick syrup sure to swallow and trap any creature caught in her stare. Merely a few feet away and walking gracefully across her garden, she approached him like a snake, slithering up to examine her prey.

Why didn't anyone one ever talk him out of these horrible ideas of his?

She spoke again.

"_Oh? said the owl. _

_Upon it's thorny branch. _

_Who are you to ask of life? _

_You who've made your bed?"_

She trailed off as she came to stand in front of him, one eyebrow raised.

She wore red this time; hair pulled back into a curly wave behind her neck. She stared at him expectantly, as if prompting Eugenides to make the first move.

Terrified yet thrilled by her presence; no words came to his mouth. He felt as frozen as an ice tree, as pinned as the butterflies in the science room, as stuck as a sheep in a chasm.

He had only one move.

"_I see how you sit there. _

_Upon your thorny branch. _

_Lording wisdom you will not give. _

_To those you point out lack."_

Her jaw dropped ever so slightly, and she seemed to examine him more closely. Not as prey this time, but as an object of interest.

A friendlier light dawned in her eyes, and she smiled. Her teeth reminded him of a wolf. "Impressive. Not many people know of _The Wise Owl_. Especially not goat-foots." She waved a hand at him as if brushing dust from a table.

_Goat-foot? _

Eugenides scrambled to his feet.

"_Goat-foots _can read just as well as any lowlander, I'll have you know." He was indignant. He was scared out of his mind, but even so, he never forgot to be indignant.

"Ah..." She was amused. "But clearly not so skilled when it comes to understanding these words."

She stepped closer and leaned forward to stare, unblinking, into his eyes. "I thought I told you to stay away from me, little boy. Witches are very, very dangerous people."

"You're not a witch," Eugenides said confidently, resisting the urge to take a step back. "You're just a lowland lady hiding in a forest. Who are you to tell me what to do, and where not to go?"

The muscles in her jaw clenched. Now, he was in trouble.

He could practically taste the many insults and harsh judgements perched on her tongue, but when she opened her mouth, none of them came. Taking a step back, she ground her teeth and sighed.

It wasn't a sigh of exasperation or of frustration. He heard those all the time from his father, his uncles, his aunts, and even from Helen on occasion. This sigh came from somewhere much deeper in her soul. A place so deep, Eugenides didn't even have a name for it.

"Go home," she spoke abruptly, turning away from him. "You've found my house and snuck into my garden. Now collect your trophy for your little child's game and never return."

_Trophy?_

"Excuse me?" Eugenides followed, waving his arms angrily. "You think I risked impalement, broken limbs, and death just because of some 'dare and fetch game'? How stupid do you think I am?"

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her dress's hem snagged gently on a tomato vine. She raised a single eyebrow.

He prayed to the clan gods that she wouldn't try to answer that.

"Just... just wait and let me explain," he entreated. To his surprise, she turned to faced him, albeit crossing her arms and elegantly tapping her foot in the soil.

"I... I just wanted... truly wanted... to see if this was where you lived, because... because..." He'd caught her interest. He could see it in her eyes. Now, if only he could get the speech he planned past his thick tongue.

"When we met in the woods the other day, I wanted to tell you something. Just one simple thing I thought you should hear from someone who has lived just across from the Tanglewood his entire life."

Her gaze was the softest he'd ever seen, and for a moment he pictured her as a child. Hair braided by her mother, fingernail beds clean of garden dirt, eyes wide and innocent not hard and cruel.

"I just wanted to say that- that..." he paused, taking a deep breath. "I'm not scared of you."

Silence.

The softness in her face evaporated, and a steel light returned to her eyes. She spoke unkindly, "A little boy not afraid of witches?" She stepped closer, smiling at him balefully. "Not afraid of a haunted forest? Not afraid of the deep, dark secrets his father will never, never tell him? Not even afraid of the blood soaked soil he grows his food in?"

He had no idea what she was talking about, but his feet would not move and his jaw would not open to respond to her bitter words. He stared, wide eyed as she leaned forward, inches from his face.

She was as terrible as she was beautiful.

"Not afraid of anything, it seems." She took his chin in her palm and smiled almost gently. "Well let me tell you something, young one. There may be little you fear in this world, but if there's one thing, just one thing you should most certainly be afraid of..." Letting go of his chin, she lightly stroked his cheek. "It would be me."

She released him, and he titled backwards, reeling for his balance.

From the porch steps she said, "Go back to your friend, go home, and do not, and I repeat this, do not ever feel sorry for me again."

The door slammed shut, and Eugenides ran from her garden, back into the safety of the pines.


	5. Chapter Four

_A wounded deer leaps the highest._

_- Emily Dickinson_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Heart of the Tanglewood<strong>_

_**Chapter Four**_

"Umm..." Eugenides muttered from across the table, nervously toying with the edge of his plate. His father glanced up, mild interest in his eyes.

Eugenides rarely ate with his father anymore. Possessing an endless arsenal of doting aunts and other relatives who welcomed him at their dinner table, he found the avoidance tactic the best strategy at meal times. Since his mother's death, the only time Eugenides and his father ever seemed to speak was to shout at one another.

"Do you have a question, Eugene?" his father asked mildly.

Eugenides cringed at the name. The old man had a talent of making a delicate situation even more tense by saying as few words as possible.

"Eugenides," he answered, stressing his archaic name, "does have a question. About the history of the hamlet."

His father's expression didn't change, and the headman waited to speak till he was done chewing. "First..." started the old man, "Eugene is what your mother and I named you. It's your true name, no matter what you may think of it."

Eugenides set his jaw at the mention of his mother but didn't respond.

"Second, I assume this question would explain your presence here tonight?"

Eugenides nodded sheepishly. If he was going to endure his father's cynical glare, he might as well gain something from it.

"Did anything..." Eugenides searched for an appropriate word, "unusual happen in the hamlet around ten or twelve years ago?"

The headman stopped eating. His fork poised just an inch above his plate, frozen in place. Eugenides swallowed as his eyes met his father's. The old man starred at his son angrily, as if he'd just insulted his mother, her mother, her mother before her, and every family god on the mantle with a single word.

"Who have you been talking to?" he asked tersely.

Eugenides opened his mouth but was given no chance to speak.

"Is it one of your uncles? Has one of them been at the tankard again, shooting their mouths off?"

Eugenides shook his head slowly.

Noticing his son's blank stare, the headman's angry brow melted into a thoughtful frown. He sighed and leaned backwards in his chair.

The only sound was the gentle crackle of the fire.

Rubbing his temples, the headman spoke more calmly. "It wasn't my intention to raise my voice. I'm sorry."

Eugenides set his fork down and looked away. It was odd for the old man to apologize. Even odder for him to recoil like a calf poked with a hot iron.

"There was an incident..." his father began, his voice low. Eugenides raised his eyes with interest. "Twelve years ago, like you said, during the greatest plague of red fever this village has ever known, there was a doctor from the lowlands passing through just before the bridges closed up with snow."

The old man's voice was distant and hazy, as if he were remembering a home consumed by fire or bountiful harvest lost to the winter storms.

"This happened when you were barely walking," the headman noted, looking at Eugenides who was leaned forward on the table listening carefully.

"My brother and I sent you, your mother, and all the healthy women and children higher up the mountain to the caves the shepherds use in the spring."

Eugenides hadn't realized he was griping the edge of the tables so hard his knuckles hurt. He relaxed his fingers and waited for his father to continue.

"This doctor, Relius was his name, had a female assistant traveling with him. I don't recall her name, but she was helping him attend to the sick that remained in the village."

Eugenides's eyebrows shot up. _Female?_

"There was..." his father trailed off but continued with his story, "There was a disagreement between the doctor and the village headman at that time, Helen's father as you know. A very ugly disagreement... And all of us, all the prominent men in the village, we swore upon all the honor of all the clan gods to never tell our wives or our children exactly how ugly it was."

Eugenides narrowed his eyes at the statement but said nothing. Falling into silence, his father's gaze became unfocused before drifting back to the food in front of him. Picking up his fork, the old man began to eat again.

When it didn't appear as if his father was going to continue, Eugenides decided to ask the question perched on his tongue.

"What happened to the girl?"

The old man looked up to meet his son's gaze, and for a single moment, that lasted as long a lightening strike flashes through the sky, Eugenides understood his father perfectly.

In saying nothing, he said absolutely everything.

"Don't ever ask me about this again," his father warned, and Eugenides sat up straighter. "And whatever has you interested this occurrence," the headman continued, "I strongly suggest you forget it exists."

Eugenides looked away, picking up his own fork. He'd known his father long enough to understand when he meant what he said.

"And Eugene?" Eugenides raised his head at his father's voice.

"Stay out of the woods."

**-X-X-X-**

The next morning, Eugenides walked to the library for his last day of punishment duty. He strode quickly through the gaps between houses and ducked behind lodges and sheep wagons to avoid detection. As he neared the field that skirted the training yard, he broke into a full sprint, keeping his head low. Though he didn't have the courage to look up, Eugenides could feel the menacing glares of his cousins on his back, and his neck prickled in anxiety. He was not looking forward to tomorrow.

Reaching the library entrance, Eugenides spun on his toes and leaned his back against the shut door with a relived sigh; chest rising and falling in a pant.

He noted Sophos was sitting at the long table near the door. His feet propped up and a book on his lap. "Was something chasing you?"

Eugenides leaned his neck back as far as it would go and groaned loudly before falling into a wide-armed chair. "Might as well be," he answered peevishly. "Found anything?"

Sophos slid his feet off the table, shaking his head. "I thought to ask the magus, but he's only been here for a few years and either way... I don't think he knows anything more about the witch than what he told us the other night." Sophos paused considerately, "And if I do ask... I'm afraid I'll accidentally tell him what happened." Sophos placed his book on the table and fiddled with the cover. "He seems to know what I'm thinking all the time."

Eugenides smirked. "That's because you're a terrible liar."

Sophos studied his friend with narrowed eyes. "How would you know? I've never-"

"Lied to me?" Eugenides's smirk grew more sly. "That's how I know."

Ignoring Sophos's surprised face, Eugenides leaned forward from his slouched position and crossed his arms on the table; his head pillowed against his forearms. "I don't suppose any of the books would help?"

Sophos shook his head again, "I already checked. You have some local history books here, but it's all general information—agricultural, population fluxes, major wars, changes in ruling families. That sort of thing... What did your father say?"

Eugenides didn't move from his relaxed state. "More than I thought he would. He said something about a doctor passing through the ham about twelve years ago, during an outbreak of red fever. He said the doctor had a female assistant, but I have no idea if it's the same girl or not." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Either way, it doesn't explains why she would still be here."

Eugenides arched his back, stretching like a cat. Sophos twiddled his thumbs. "Are you sure about what she said? The 'blood soaked soil' bit."

The prone boy froze. "Certain," he said quietly. "If there's one thing I'll remember for the rest of my life, it's the look of hatred she had on her face."

Sophos was silent.

"There's another mystery too," wondered Eugenides distantly. "How did she become a local fairy tale?"

"Oh, that's easy," answered Sophos, looking up eagerly. "A day without stories is like a day without the sun—nothing bright and nothing new."

Eugenides snorted. "You read too much poetry."

"No..." Sophos scolded, "You don't read enough. That means stories are as essential to the human life as sunlight." Sophos usually spoke like he was quoting from a book. It was the first time Eugenides had heard him sound so original. "All it takes is a little imagination and anything can become a story. Even something as simple as a strange woman in the woods."

Eugenides smirked. "I suppose you're right about that."

"Right about what?" mildly inquired the magus from the stairs.

At the sound of the magus's voice, Sophos flinched like he'd been caught stealing mutton from the common stew pot. Eugenides stifled a desire to roll his eyes. "Right about me needing to read more poetry," he answered smoothly and not taking his eyes off Sophos, who was biting his lip.

"Ah..." commented the magus. "Not bad advice, Sophos." He shifted his gaze to Eugenides. "Start with Milton, but before you do, sweep all the floors. The dust is so thick, I can still see an imprint of where Sophos fell off the shelf ladder last night."

Eugenides's groan was drowned by a laugh, and he gently laid his head on the table, shoulders shaking in mirth.

Sophos looked away with a blush.

**-X-X-X-**

After Eugenides finished his chores, Sophos and he were promptly ordered out into the fresh air, as they were quote, 'getting on the magus's nerves.'

"I told you to stop throwing the dried beans at his back," Sophos said, barely matching Eugenides's lazy gait.

"He didn't know it was me," he answered, looking out across the fields to where the afternoon sun was nearing the mountain peeks.

"Didn't he?" drawled Sophos. "Someone must have been pelting him with dried vegetables, and he already knew it wasn't me."

"Hey... I got us outside for the rest of the day, didn't I?" his friend replied, stretching his arms above his head.

As they neared the village commons, Eugenides spotted Helen exiting her family lodge and waved to her enthusiastically. When Sophos saw who his friend was waving to, he froze and averted his eyes from Helen's approach.

"Well, you're out early," Helen observed as she walked closer. "Getting into trouble?"

"Who me?" Eugenides asked with a mischievous grin. "Of course not."

"Did he get into trouble, Sophos?" Helen asked the silent boy, looking to include him in the conversation.

"Ah..." said Sophos, opened mouthed. "Umm... No. I mean... Yes. Yes, he did." Sophos blushed and tried to hide behind Eugenides's arm.

Helen raised her eyebrows at Sophos's behavior, but politely deferred to comment. She returned her attention to Eugenides. "I'm on assistant cooking duty tonight, then on prep work for the next night's Fire Festival, so don't expect to see me till after dinner," she said loudly, as if wanting others to overhear.

Eugenides stared at her with a sour face, but before she spoke again, Helen leaned closer, lowering her voice, "Cleon's on the storming warpath, because you're to return to sword training next morning. Be _careful_." She stressed the last word, as if she expected Eugenides to do just the opposite.

He smiled at her, mouthing his thanks.

After a short goodbye, Helen patted Eugenides on the shoulder and warmly smiled at Sophos before proceeding to the village kitchens for her duties.

"She already knows you like her," Eugenides told Sophos flatly. "And you can let go of my arm now."

Sophos blushed and sheepishly released his friend's arm. "Who says I like her?" Sophos muttered.

They began to walk again, passing the lodges as they went.

Eugenides thought to remind Sophos of what he'd said to him just that morning, especially in regards to lying and the you can't do it bit, but decided against it.

"What are are you going to do about your cousins tomorrow?" Sophos asked abruptly.

Eugenides titled his head to the side in thought and waved to a passing aunt who'd greeted him from her stoop. "Oh, the usual. Cleon tries to say something witty, I say something that actually is witty, Cleon tries to whack me with a stick, I run away. Simple as that, really," he answered; his bored tone meant to mask his deeper anxiety.

Sophos choose to ignore his friend's false nonchalance. "That why you ran all the way to the library this morning?"

Eugenides nearly tripped.

"You need a plan," said Sophos. "A good plan. One that will have them leaving you alone for good."

"If there were such a plan, I would have thought of it years ago," answered Eugenides, unimpressed by Sophos's conviction.

"Well, now you have my help," supplied Sophos, sounding satisfied with himself.

This time, Eugenides, whole-heartedly, indulged the urge to roll his eyes.


	6. Chapter Five

**Author's Notes: Thanks to aged_crone for answering my question about leather armor terminology. **

**Though I've taken pains to make the sword battle scene as accurate as possible, I'm far from an expert and a certain amount of creative license must be taken in non-historical settings. Longsword stances are the English translations of stances used in German schools. **

* * *

><p><em>I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.<em>

_- J.K. Rowling_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Heart of the Tanglewood<strong>_

_**Chapter Five**_

Eugenides tied his soft leather bracers around his forearm carefully, flexing and stretching the tendons in his wrist as he walked to the training field. His blunted practice sword was tucked into his holster belt, and it bobbed gently against his thigh. He clenched and unclenched his fists grudgingly.

Reaching the edge of the commons in the brisk morning air, Eugenides tilted his head towards the heavens and cursed.

_All Hamiathes's glory and Seven Fates of Astrid, this was the stupidest plan to ever be thought up in all the ten kingdoms. _

He was going to die.

If he were fortunate-that is, as fortunate as those the long-suffering boys in fireside stories who always found a purse of gold on side the road or happened upon a rich and beautiful princess in need of rescue-he'd find his last breath at the end of Cleon's practice sword or have his head bashed in by a stray swipe of the hilt.

Commiserating more with the sly boys who usually picked the poisonous fruit disguised as the rare cherry or mistakenly rescued the ugly witch who'd rather eat men than bless them with riches, it was all too likely Eugenides would be trampled under his cousin's bear-like boots or vertically spitted on a fence post like a straw dummy.

Eugenides sighed and dragged his feet across the hard ground. He considered dipping the point of his play weapon in the dust simply to cheek his uncle, the revered sword master, but decided against it. He may need to garner favor amongst his betters if matters where to proceed smoothly today.

Smoothly... That's exactly the word Sophos had used.

_About as smooth as a country road after snow._

Eugenides looked up from his mental simmer and noticed Sophos approaching him from across the field. He even had the nerve to look cheerful.

"You all set?" Sophos asked, nearing his friend.

"I have mentioned to you that Cleon is at least twice my size?" Legend had it that if a faithful member of the clan found his death in battle, it would be a quick and painless honor. But knowing his lot...

"That won't matter," said Sophos, coming to walk beside Eugenides and ignoring his bad temper. "Not with the trick you have up your sleeve, and either way, I've seen you lift the heavy books and furniture in the library. You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Eugenides sighed. "I suppose a stupid plan is just as good as any other."

"You know..." began Sophos in a thoughtful tone, "There was a king I read about once who said something to that effect. He also said he loved them."

"Which was that?" Eugenides inquired, fiddling with the ties of his bracers to keep them snug. "Loved plans or loved the stupidity of them?"

Sophos laughed.

**-X-X-X-**

Eugenides left Sophos on the outer side of fence and strode brazenly into the practice field. His cousins were already assembled for the morning lineup, and all heads turned at his entrance.

Eugenides waved cheerfully and took his place at the end of the ranks, pretending as if he didn't notice the multitude of menacing glares all pointed in his direction. His uncle, the sword master, stood at the end of the ranks, so there was little chance of unsavory behavior just yet. His brother, Temenus, was stationed to Eugenides's far left. His brother fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I'm surprised you had the courage to show your face this morning," whispered Tenris, who stood next to him in line.

"And I'm surprised you're here, Tenris, after how your sister spanned you with your own sword the other day." Tenris blanched and looked away. Eugenides smirked. Eavesdropping had its perks.

"Attention!" shouted his uncle down the ranks, and all the boys straightened their stance and brought their feet together. "Turn!" another bellow came, and all combatants obeyed, turning towards the sword master with the loud thud of a communal step.

In the silence that followed, Eugenides took a deep breath; and with the air that left his chest, a deep sense of clarity settled in his mind. Peering at the faces around him, Eugenides observed each and every serious expression and overly proper stance.

He barely contained a laugh.

Every one of these boys was so self-absorbed in their own importance, so enamored by the glory they thought this stale war could bring them, completely beguiled by the shine of the sword and the powerful stomp of the war-horse.

Not a single one of them knew the truth.

Eugenides had spoken with Sophos last night about the war, and to his surprise, his young friend had witnessed the aftermath of a number of the lowland battles. He'd told Eugenides many things he would prefer to never repeat. The front ranks were mayflies in the rage of the fight, the yeomen-sitting geese on the hunting pond, and even the mounted Calvary of the legendary Legions fell by the dozens a day.

History didn't lie.

There was very little hope for survival in a war such as this, and the blood that flowed freely down the pass could turn mills. That was the glory of war. Strength was as futile as a broken shield, and Eugenides wanted no part of it.

His uncle called again and the boys broke ranks, forming a circle around the sword master who would decide the first practice match of the day. Cleon eyed Eugenides, and he returned his cousin's glare with a delighted smirk.

Standing now as he did, after a week of encounters with his ham's equivalent of the bogeyman, Eugenides looked his cousins in the eye and suddenly, none of them, not even Cleon, seemed so big anymore.

He tightened his grip on his sword hilt. He could do this.

"Sir?" Eugenides called to his uncle, and the sword master turned to study him.

"I heard rumors of your return today, Eugene," his uncle responded.

Eugenides shrugged lazily. "I found I couldn't stay away. If it's okay with you, sir..." He removed his sword from its holster belt. "May I be matched with Cleon first thing?"

Eugenides almost laughed at how every jaw in sight dropped an inch. Even the sword master appeared taken aback. "Alright..." began his uncle, looking back and forth between his two students. "If you'd like, Eugene, you may have the first practice match today after warms ups. Take it easy now," the sword master warned.

His uncle left the circle and the combatants spread out across the field to begin their own exercises. The sword master took a sentinel stance by a fence post, his arms crossed.

Eugenides set his sword in the dust and laid down for a set of stretches. Normally, one of his cousins would try to sneak up on him while the sword master wasn't looking and kick him in the ribs. This did not happen today, as all the other boys were pointedly avoiding looking in his direction, leaving Cleon to settle their gripe. Cleon engaged in his own exercises a few feet away, but he too avoided Eugenides's gaze.

Standing up and looking to where he left Sophos, Eugenides noticed Helen stood next to his friend. She waved shortly, and Eugenides responded with a half-hearted sweep of his palm. She wore her favorite trousers and had her own practice sword tethered to her belt.

Sophos waved too, and Eugenides grinned at how he used the distraction to skittishly inch away from Helen's elbow.

**-X-X-X-**

Though Eugenides was far too small to use a longsword with any more effectiveness than a kitchen knife tied to a broom, their racially common height and broad shoulders made the longsword the weapon of choice on the Eddisian battlefield. Though students used shorter, easier to handle blades, long sword stances and fighting methods were employed for practice purposes during training.

The Ox, the Plow, the Fool, or the Roof, Eugenides considered, running through the basic ready stances in his head and weighing the heft of his weapon in his hand. Though assiduously blunted to prevent injury, blows from a practice sword still hurt like hammer blows on bruised flesh.

From the broad gaps of his helm, Eugenides eyed Cleon challengingly and watched his cousin check the ties in his leather breast armor and draw his sword. Eugenides ground the toe of his boot into the dirt.

Cleon drew up his arms above his head, leveling the blade with his forehead in a Ox attack position. Taking the defense, Eugenides lowered his hilt past his hip to a Plow position; his blade titled upward towards Cleon's stomach.

Seeming to make a decision, Cleon rushed towards Eugenides, swinging his powerful blade downwards to where Eugenides neck met his shoulder. His knees already lowered to a crouch, Eugenides ducked and rolled, trusting his instincts to protect himself against injury from his own blade.

Cleon checked his blow as Eugenides turned away, swinging the tip of his sword downwards in an arch. Uncannily aware of his weapon's position, Eugenides pushed his sword forward, knocking into Cleon's blade at the broadest part of the sword just above the hilt, pushing it away. Lost in his own momentum, Cleon nearly stumbled, but braced himself with the side of his boot and returned to a ready position.

Eugenides collected himself as well, taking several paces back. _Survived __that __one,_ he thought and clenched his jaw in concentration. Calculating that Cleon would not expect him to attack again so soon, Eugenides assumed the Fool position-his sword tip pointed towards the ground but his grip angled so he could easily swing it upwards in a powerful blow.

Taking Cleon by surprise, Eugenides aimed for his cousin's unguarded underarms, but was blocked as Cleon brought his sword down against Eugenides's and sidestepped the shorter boy's attack.

Swiveling on the tips of his toes and kicking up a cloud of dust, Eugenides turned to face his cousin once again.

**-X-X-X-**

The match continued as thus for another fifteen minutes. Eugenides remained on defense while Cleon attempted to trick Eugenides into leaving himself open. Eugenides continued to duck and roll, staying light on his feet.

It seemed his boldness in challenging Cleon first had unsettled his cousin, causing his swings to be wild and angry-wasting a great deal of energy on overhead blows and rushed charges due to his frustration with Eugenides's frequent dodges. In contrast, Eugenides was merely winded. All that running had built up quite an impressive stamina over the years.

Eugenides glanced at the crowd around him. His uncle watched without expression, his other cousins stood as useless gawkers, and Sophos and Helen were both leaned against the fence rails in bated breath. To his surprise, Eugenides even spotted the magus a ways off on the other side of the field, watching intently.

Taking into account Cleon's sweat streaked skin and arms held heavy in exhaustion, Eugenides knew it would soon be time to act. Even with Cleon tired, it was only so long before he too grew clumsy, and his waned stamina caused his concentration to waver. Knowing where the blade was most likely to swing and having an instinctive knowledge of how best to counter that attack had always been Eugenides's greatest combat strength, and he couldn't afford to compromise it.

Bringing himself to his full height, Eugenides assumed the rare Tail position with his left hand as the primary one. This stance had him holding his sword more like a club, the blade leaned at a tilt behind his body, pointed down in a ready swing strike.

Thinking Eugenides was erring in judgment by leaving himself open, Cleon took a Roof position and brought his blade downwards in a rush towards where Eugenides's shoulder met his neck.

Eugenides didn't move, and time seemed to slow as Cleon heavy steps resounded slowly off the ground. Gasps came from the crowd and Eugenides looked up, his feet unshifting as Cleon's blade came down. A shimmer of light off the dust covered steel was his only signal.

Eugenides stepped into the strike, his smaller stature allowing him to come close to the middle of the blade-where Cleon had the least leverage. He brought the bracer on his right wrist forward meeting the sword with a clash of metal that pushed Eugenides feet backwards, nearly out from under him.

Shocked, Cleon lost his momentum, and Eugenides ground his teeth as he pushed forward, bringing his sword up and shifting the grip of his left hand. He dug the hilt of his weapon into Cleon's gut with devastating force.

Cleon went down, dropping his sword, the wind completely knocked from his lungs. He held his stomach in muffled moans of pain.

Eugenides staggered backwards. Allowing his own sword to fall from his fingers, he removed his helm, and held up his right wrist to see that the leather of his bracer had been torn and the shiny metal of the wrist cuff he'd hidden under the sturdy cloth showed through. Eugenides winced and waved his wrist back and forth to relieve the sting. He sighed as he noticed a jagged cut along the edge of the bracer. A bit of blood had soaked into the leather.

The sword master walking forward and helped Cleon to his feet, albeit still hunched over and gasping for breath. He then turned to Eugenides. Lightly taking the boy's wrist, he examined the cuff critically. Eugenides sheepishly bit his lip, but his uncle said nothing.

"He cheated," Cleon gasped, still hunched over in pain. Eugenides glanced at his cousin with a sour face. He hadn't meant to hit him that hard.

The sword master remained expressionless as he turned to study the larger boy. "You know the tradition, Cleon. First match of the day is always anything goes. Eugene may have stretched the definition..." His uncle trailer off, glancing sharply at Eugenides, "...but some may consider your height an unfair advantage as well. I'll accept this as Eugene's win. However..." the sword master paused, "Please remember boys... You're here to learn how to defend your country, not settle personal grudges." He gave both of them a searching look, but glanced at Eugenides alone with an odd smile. Eugenides grinned.

The sword master walked away. Ignoring the shocked stares of the crowd around him, Eugenides picked up both discarded practice swords. He handed his cousin's back to him. His voice mild as he spoke," Truce?"

Cleon gazed at his sword for a long moment. Meeting Eugenides's eyes, Cleon took the hilt with a reluctant nod and staggered away. Eugenides smiled. If Cleon left him alone, so would the rest of his cousins.

Rubbing a sore shoulder, Eugenides searched the field for his friends and found Helen and Sophos beaming from their place at the fence. Sophos waved widely, and Helen brought her fingers to her mouth in a loud whistle.

Eugenides smirked and saluted them both.


	7. Chapter Six

**Author's Note: The song featured in this chapter is a traditional Irish folksong, dating back to the 17th century.**

* * *

><p><em>It's so easy to destroy and condemn. The ones you do not understand.<em>

_- Within Temptation_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Heart of the Tanglewood<strong>_

_**Chapter Six**_

_I wish I was on yonder hill_

_'Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill_

_And every tear would turn a mill_

_Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin_

_Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin_

Sophos poked Eugenides in the ribs from where he sat next to him, crossed-legged in the dry grass. "What's this song about?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Eugenides leaned back on his elbows, careful not to put any weight on his injured wrist. His plate of dinner lay eaten next to him; his ankles crossed a safe distance away from the bonfire. He looked at Sophos considerately.

"It's about a woman separated from her lover by war."

"War..." Sophos repeated slowly, before looking away to gaze forlorn at the skies above.

Eugenides pursed his lips and observed the relaxed body language of the other villagers who circled the bonfire-lulled by the ambient crackle of the flames. He decided to ask an overdue question.

"What you told me before, Sophos..." Sophos turned to look at him. "How do you know so much about the Attolian-Eddis War?"

He shrugged. "There's things you hear if you live in the lowlands," Sophos replied ambiguously. "That's all."

It was a weak excuse, Eugenides knew, but something in Sophos's voice warned him against asking more.

One of Helen's younger sisters continued to sing.

_I'll dye my petticoat, I'll dye it red_

_And round the world I'll beg my bread_

_Till I find my love alive or dead_

_Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin_

_Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin_

In the peace of the commons and the after-night of that Fire Festival that marked the start of sheering season, Eugenides considered the melancholy notes of _Siúil__A__Rúin_ and the chorus in the old language. _Go,__My__Love_ the song was called.

Go where? Eugenides wondered. Go to war? Across the sea? To your death? Who would send their love to die? Who would send anyone to die?

"No!"

Startled from his reverie by a shrill scream, Eugenides, Sophos, and half the villagers around the fire scrambled to their feet. Eugenides recognized the voice as one of his distant female cousins. He'd always been a fast runner, a skill developed more from necessity than sport, and he was the first to reach the skirting fields of the village.

"Breia!" Eugenides shouted, taking her shoulders as he approached her. She cowered, hugging herself in the dark.

"I saw her," she stammered, clinging to Eugenides's arms in her fear. "I saw the witch of the Tanglewood. She's real!"

Eugenides nodded gravely. "Don't I know it. Wait here," he ordered and left her to Sophos and the others running up from the village.

She couldn't have gotten far.

**-X-X-X-**

Eugenides was lost.

To further define his problem, he was not lost in the hopeless, foraging for berries and wrestling bears sense; he was lost in the dark.

It was hours till morning, and with nothing but the moon to guide him, every tree, every clearing, and every shallow brook looked the same. The hunting howl of a wolf pack sent a chill down his spine, and he shuddered in the cold mist. As close to winter as it was, it was unlikely he'd run into any large carnivores, but under night's cloak, it was a lot easier to believe that every bush and every shrub was a beast stalking its prey.

"Its lost, hopeless, stupid prey," he muttered under his breath. Stomping through a pile a leaves in his frustrating, he tripped over a log hidden in a tree's lunar shadow. His nose went straight into the dirt.

A voice chuckled from behind him.

Shoving the heels of his hands into the ground, Eugenides pushed himself to his feet and turned to confront the wraith or whatever spirit haunted forests in the middle of the night. He suddenly remembered only a witch roamed these moors.

"Your grace knows no bounds, does it?" she teased, coming into the teary light of the moon.

"Ah... Were you following me?" he asked stupidly.

"I believe you were following me," she said with pointed air. "If anyone has the moral high-ground, it would be the victim of the initial transgression." She had an articulate, quotable way of speaking. It reminded him of Sophos or a less annoying version of the magus.

Eugenides laughed and bending his knees, hunched himself forward to calm his racing heart. "I'm starting to get you," he said as fact. What he could see of her expression remained blank. "Why you were watching Helen that day, and why you were watching us at the Fire Festival..."

The corners of her mouth turned up, as if expecting a joke. "And what is it you... 'get'?"

"You're lonely..." he began softly. "You're so lonely, you'll stand and watch families feast and girls play with their sisters... You stand there as strong and sure as a mountain, like you need nothing from life but air and food, but... That's merely your mask, and you're so very, very afraid I'll see past it, aren't you? So afraid that I do..."

He expected heated denials and driving recriminations to come from her tongue, but she did not speak. He watched her turn and hide herself in the shadows.

"It's too late for you to find your way back home. If you can keep up, you can come with me."

He spent the next half-hour stumbling through the forest in pursuit.

**-X-X-X-**

Her house was smaller than his family lodge, but it was cozy and well kept. The ceiling was low and some of the crossbeams sagged, their strength compromised by the damp air of the forest.

She had a pot of hot water bubbling over the fire. She'd offered him tea, and he rubbed his sore ankles as he watched her mix herbs for the brew in the corner kitchen.

"What's your name?" he said from his chair by the fire. When she didn't respond, he tried another. "Who built this house?"

"I don't know," she answered without turning. "I imagine it was first built by a huntsman, who lived off the fruits of the forest. It was abandoned when I found it, and I had to perform quite a few repairs." She took the pot off the stove hook and set the leaves to brew before leaning against the counter. Her arms crossed.

"How did you come to live here?" Eugenides asked. "My father told me a doctor named Relius came through the ham with a female ward... Was that you?"

She snorted. "Your father remembers his name, does he? Bet he doesn't remember mine..."

"He didn't," Eugenides answered shortly. "How do you know my father?"

She returned to the tea. "We met in passing, but I know him mostly through association." She glanced over her shoulder. "It was your mother I knew well."

"My mother?" he said in surprise.

"She brought me food sometimes..." she began distantly. "Taught me how to weed a garden, which mushrooms killed flies and which I could eat with stew. I wouldn't have survived without her..." She paused. "I thought preventing her son from stumbling off a cliff was the least I could do in her memory."

"Thank you..." he said quietly. "I mean for telling me you knew my mother. I wouldn't have fallen off a cliff, you see..."

"Of course," she lied. "Hope you like lavender." She handed him a mug. He watched bits of herbs swirl about and eventually settle in the cup.

"Why did you stay?"

She sighed and taking a sip from her own mug, sat across from him in a wicker chair. "I didn't have many options. I was born a baron's daughter in Attolia. After my father died, I was married, and after my husband died... circumstances... forced me to flee. Our court doctor went with me." She smiled wistfully. "I think he was the first person to ever put my interests above his own."

Eugenides resisted to urge to clench his jaw. "Did you love him?"

She smirked. "He loved me. And I loved him... but not the type of love you mean."

Eugenides set him mug down. To hide his embarrassment, he pushed back his sleeve to rub his wrist. "What happened to him?"

Her eyes went to the bandage wrapped around his wound, and she leaned forward, gently curling her fingers around his forearm. "Did you get in a fight?" she asked.

He laughed. "You could say that. It's not as bad as it looks."

She used her fingernails to slowly peel back the bandages. "You're not as good at lying as you'd like to think you are. I have something that will reduce the swelling." She stood and walked to a shelf neatly lined with jars of dried herbs. She selected a few and began to grind them into powder.

"Are you a doctor, too?"

She shook her head. "I fancy myself a practitioner of herbalism as oppose to medicine, but I do know a thing or two about a physician's work." She poured a drop a molasses into the bowl and brought it to his side. "It will stick better this way," she explained, and she rubbed the formula into the swollen edges of the cut. Eugenides sighed. It was blissfully soothing. "Make sure you keep this clean, or it will get-"

"Wait," Eugenides interrupted, taking her wrist that held the bowl with his free hand. "You didn't answer my question." She looked him in the eye for a long moment before slowly shaking her head. When she finally spoke, she was gentle.

"There are some things you shouldn't hear from me." She stood and walked to the pump sink to rinse the bowl. "I suppose I can't make you sleep outside like a dog, and since I don't have a barn, you may use the spare blankets and the rug by the fire." She set the bowl on a shelf, before getting into bed. The old mattress platform squeaked under her weight. "Good night, Eugenides." She blew out the oil lamp by her bedside, leaving Eugenides, yet again, in the dark.

**-X-X-X-**

She was gone the next morning.

Waking up groggy to the damp air of morning forest and filtered light, Eugenides poked his head into the nooks of her house and took a moment in her garden. He supposed he could wait for her to come back, but he doubted he'd be greeted with more than a curt 'go home' once she walked in the gate.

He went back inside the house to get the over-shirt he'd taken off while sleeping. As he shook out his garment, a bottle fell from the pocket. A note was wrapped around the vial.

_Eugenides,_

_Apply this once a day or whenever the swelling grows noticeably worse. It will heal more quickly. _

_Keep it clean._

_-the witch_

He smiled at the last line, and tucked the herb powder back into his pocket. Gently shutting her door and walking into the forest, he thought the Tanglewood had never looked more inviting.

**-X-X-X-**

"Gen!" Sophos shouted as he walked down the hill and towards the village circle. Sophos ran up to him and threw his arms around Eugenides's shoulders like he'd been gone for years. A week ago, Eugenides would have rolled his eyes and pushed Sophos away; but he laughed instead and returned the embrace.

"Miss me?" Eugenides observed dryly.

"You've been missing all night. We'd thought something had happened to you."

Eugenides made a sour face. "Just got lost in the dark. I found my way back easily enough. Don't tell me... They sent out the cavalry, didn't they?"

Sophos came to walk beside him. "Your father wanted to go and look for you right away, but the magus convinced him to wait till morning. Some of your uncles are getting ready to look for you now."

"Ugh..." Eugenides drawled. "Guess I'd better go and end the panic." He was going to break into a run, but Sophos stopped him with a sharp tug on his sleeve.

"Gen..." Eugenides narrowed his eyes. He'd never seen Sophos look so serious. "There's something you need to know."

**-X-X-X-**

"Let me see her." He wanted to shout and yell and throw things. He hadn't been this angry since... well... since his mother had been laid in the earth under a quiet snow.

"Eugene, you can't." His aunt said calmly, blocking his way into Helen's lodge. "You know how contagious red fever is. You could get sick too, just by touching her."

"I don't care!" Eugenides shouted and stormed inside. The magus grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back. Eugenides continued to struggle.

"Let him in," called his father's voice from a back room. The magus sighed and released his grip on the boy.

"Don't touch her," the magus warned, as Eugenides straightened his shirt and walked into the back room.

Helen lay perfectly still on a limp old mattresses, wrapped tightly in blankets. The bright red spots the sickness was named for dotted her skin in blotches. Her forehead was streaked with sweat, and his father dapped her neck with a water soaked rag. "Just like her parents," the old man sighed. "I'm glad you're safe, Eugenides."

If it wasn't for his dying, beloved cousin laying prone before him, he would of noticed his father had used his chosen name. Eugenides kneeled by Helen's bedside. He knew better than to touch her skin, but that didn't stop him from laying his palm on her cloth covered knee. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes. "How bad is the fever?"

"These are the early stages, so not too high yet. We're hoping it goes down instead of up, if it doesn't..." he left the words unsaid.

"I don't understand." Eugenides slowly shook his head. "She was fine yesterday."

His father nodded. "This plague can strike quickly; we've seen that before. I sent for a doctor from the clan city, but-"

"That could take more than a week," Eugenides interrupted, his voice low. "She might be dead by tomorrow."

His father shrugged. There was nothing to be done. Unless... Eugenides's hand went to his bandaged wrist.

"Wait, I know someone who can help." Jumping to his feet, he was about to run out the door; but his father stopped him with a word.

"Eugenides, don't. She won't help us." The headman's son froze. Turning slowly, he faced his father, eyebrows raised in confusion. "Yes, I know you've been talking to her. Just from the way you've been acting lately," observed the old man.

"You know her then, huh?"

His father nodded.

"You're wrong," Eugenides insisted. "I've only just met her, but I know she'll help."

"Eugenides..." his father began but trailed off.

He couldn't take it anymore. The unsaid words, the lies not spoken.

"Come on say it!" Eugenides practically screamed. "Why won't anyone tell me what the big secret is? What could be so bad that no one will say it out loud!"

Helen groaned and shifted in her sick bed. It was like water on fire to Eugenides's ire, and he guiltily glanced down at his cousin.

The headman wouldn't look at his son as he spoke. "He's dead, Eugenides. Murdered." Catching his breath, Eugenides mouth hung open as the headman continued. "By Helen's father."

"What? Why?" Out of all the answers he'd been expecting, that wasn't one of them.

"Helen's mother died during that plague twelve years ago, as you know. She was one of the first. During the final days, when the last of the sick were either dying or recovering, Relius's ward fell ill as well... The doctor ground together a herbal tonic, and she got better. Quickly. Too quickly some thought. Helen's father believed the doctor had let his wife die on purpose and... Well, that was the disagreement. They were fighting, and in his anger, the late headman pushed Relius, and he fell... Off the east cliff." Eugenides cringed. The east cliff was more than fifty feet high.

"Did my mother know?" asked Eugenides. His father nodded.

"Not at first, but a secret never stayed a secret around her. Before she died, she used to take food, soap, and candles to the girl in the forest. When she was out, I'd do repairs on her cottage. She probably thought it was your mother..." He smiled, but his face soon fell. "We didn't want you to live with the same guilt we've had all these years..."

Eugenides didn't know what to say to that, but to him, none of it mattered. Not anymore. Not when Helen lay on her deathbed, not when she struggled for each breath. "I'm still going. She helped me." He took the vial the witch had left him out of his pocket and handed it to his father. The old man stared at the tiny bottle pinched between his fingers as if it were a rare gem.

"She'll help Helen. I know she will." Eugenides didn't know who he was trying to convince. "I won't be long."

Eugenides spoke to no one as he ran out the door and into the street. One purpose-a sole ship in his mind. He'd rage against the ocean storm, if he had but one hope that he'd get through.


End file.
